Althaea Witchcrown
by Pheonex from a Black Fire
Summary: Having grown up in a big Chondathan city, and having grown up in scorn for her heritage and difference, Althaea Witchcrown has little use for humans. More often than not they are her livelihood. Burglarizing noblemen and pickpocketing market-goers was at one time, all in a days work for her. And this is that story. As well as the story of what changed. Rated M for later violence
1. Meeting Malark

**Hello to all of you who followed me from my HP ****fan fiction! To all newcomers, HELLO! LET ME LOVE YOU! (I'm not actually that weird, I promise. I just like my readers)**

**This story is basically going to be made up of scenes moments and events from my DnD character's past. Essentially it's an overly detailed backstory.**

**For those of you wondering why an eighteen year old girl with priorities and a job - and a mild Harry Potter addiction - is writing DnD fan fiction, you can thank my boyfriend. He got me into it. And I love it.**

**For the sake of understanding some of the things I write about my character, I'll give you her physical description.**

**Althaea Witchcrown is a half-elf. Her mother was a human of Chondathan decent, and her father was of Moon Elf decent.**

**By the end of the story, she will be 5'3'' and weigh 124bls**

**Her eyes are deep blue and flecked with silver. Her hair is black. Her skin is a very light tan color, and tinted with dark blue, most noticeably in places like her shoulders and cheekbones. She has a very slim and deceptively non-threatening build with whispy features.**

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><p><strong><span>Althaea, age nine.<span>**

A little girl of about nine hid behind a crate in an alleyway. Covered from head to foot in grime, and with hair that was practically matted to her head, it was clear to anyone that she'd been on her own for a while. Her stick thin limbs and sallow skin told the story of malnourishment and lack of care. The dark purple bags beneath her eyes told the story of restless nights spent on the streets. Her name was Althaea Witchcrown.

Despite the child's pitiful state, her dark blue eyes still held fire. Fire which burned bright with anger as she stared balefully out of the mouth of the alley. Every now and again a human would pass by, and every time, Althaea would press herself against the wall of the building behind her. She both hated and feared them. None of them cared for her, some even tried to hurt her. They said she should return to her own kind, to beg from them instead.

But her own kind were not so easily found. Half-elves such as she belonged to no one place, never colonizing the way that their human and elvish kin (and other beings did). They didn't belong. And she was no acceptation. And as young as she was, and even if the elves would accept her, Althaea couldn't have been able to journey from the city even if she had tried.

So here she sat, starving, dehydrated, and living in squalor. Left alone by society to stumble about and to ponder her fate. And after not eating in the three days that had passed, her fate was beginning to look very bleak indeed.

Shouting broke her from her trance of anger and staring.

"Stop him!" demanded an adult. "Thief! Stop him!"

There was more shouting, then the tramping sounds of the armored footsteps of the city guards, and then someone ran into the alley. Out of instinct and fear, Althaea shrank back against the wall again even as the person ran right past her without even a look. They were small, and nimble, slipping easily under the abandoned and rotting cart that blocked off half the alleyway.

The footfalls were not far behind, and guards and a few commoners ran into the small side street, looking around for the thief. They zeroed in on the little girl instantly, as she was the only one in sight. She whimpered and tried to scramble away even as one of the guards grabbed her by the collar of her threadbare tunic, dragging her to her feet and holding her a few inches off the ground.

"Was this the thief?" the man growled to a commoner standing angrily behind him.

"No, no! It was a young boy! Not some elvish halfbreed!" the man complained.

The guard grunted then turned his attention back to Althaea who's expression was one of both blind fear and unbridled hate. The man shook her slightly, "Did you see where the little thief went?"

Mutely, she shook her head. It was a bold-faced lie, but they had never done a thing for her. So what if some human got his stuff nicked? It served him right, calling her a halfbreed.

With a huff of irritated frustration, the guard released his grip on her tunic, unceremoniously dropping her back to the ground. The girl fell, scraping her palms on the rough paving stones as she reached out to halt her decent. With tears stinging her eyes she glared hatefully at the humans as they ignored her and continued their search. They moved several of the empty crates that were in the alley, and even under the dilapidated cart, but they found no one.

Cursing, the humans left the alley, with the man who'd been stolen from demanding they find the one who'd taken his money.

Quietly whimpering, Althaea turned her hands over to look at the cuts in her skin. They weren't bleeding to badly, but they burned, and there were small chips of rock and dirt embedded in the wounds. She whimpered again at the thought of having to clean out the cuts, knowing that it would hurt, but also knowing that if she didn't then she ran the high risk of infection.

"Thanks for not ratting me out." said a cheerful voice.

The girl flinched violently away from the sound, holding her injured hands close to her chest. When she wasn't looking the person from before had crawled out from under the cart again.

As the man had said, the thief was a young boy. He looked to be about eleven or twelve, and it was clear to see that unlike her, he was a true Chondathan. He had the tawny skin and the dark brown hair, as well as the typical slender features. He wore a dark grey tunic, black cloth breeches, and very stained rough leather boots. Around his waist was a sash, from which hung a blue coin purse.

Smiling at her the human boy stepped closer, only to frown when the little girl backed away. He gave her a sad look. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Malark Buckman, why don't you tell me your name?"

"Why?" Althaea snapped. "Why would a human care about the name of some halfbreed like me?"

Malark blinked at her in astonishment for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. This only spurred the girl before him to glare more hatefully. "You're certainly fierce for your size, I'll give you that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she growled.

Malark walked over to her, ignoring her attempts to press herself further into the wall behind her. Kneeling down, he ruffled her already messy hair and grinned at her. "Only that you've got spark. So really, what's your name? Or should I just call you the little elf?"

"I'm not an elf!" she piped indignantly.

The boy chuckled. "The little half-elf then?"

The girl pouted irritably for a moment, glaring poisonously at Malark. "My name is Althaea."

Malark gave her a broad smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Althaea."

Eager to change the topic, the girl's blue eyes darted to the cart that the human child had hidden beneath. "They looked under the cart. Why didn't they find you?"

Malark's own eyes flickered from side to side before leaning closer and whispering conspiratorially. "It's a secret."

He grabbed one of Althaea's hands and pulled her to her feet before dragging her over to the cart. The girl had to bite down on her lip to keep from yelping at the pain that lanced from her hand up her arm.

Oblivious, Malark dropped down to his knees and bent over to peer beneath the rotting wooden belly of what smelled to be an old fruit cart. Letting go of the girl's hand, he pointed at the slats of wood that had fallen off the side of the cart and were now propped up against the wall. "Look there."

Scooting beneath the rickety cart, he tapped his foot in a rhythm against the wooden boards. A moment later, they were pushed aside to reveal an open basement window. There was the face of a man in the window, and his arm was out, pushing the heavy deadwood aside.

"What're you doing, boy?" the man hissed, looking suspiciously at the urchin that crouched beside Malark.

The boy shrugged and smiled. "Bringing in a new addition. Just like you did with me, Gorstag."

Looking back at Althaea, he continued to smile. "Follow me. We've got food and clean water if you do. And Shandri can fix up your hands too."

Without another word, he scooted towards the window and slid through the opening, disappearing into the shadows of the basement. Althaea remained crouched beside the cart, staring incredulously at the place where the boy had been moments before. What was it with this human? Why was he being so nice to her?

The part of her that feared and distrusted humans screamed at her to leave and never look back. But a smaller part of her, the part that remembered her loving human mother, and the part of her that recognized how badly she needed help, it was softly telling her to put her faith in this stranger.

And so, with much trepidation, Althaea followed after the boy. Sliding through the still open window, she dropped a few feet onto something soft, and then the man from before stepped forward and pulled the boards back over the window before shutting it tightly.

Never before had she been so grateful for her elven heritage. Her heightened vision allowed her to keep her bearings even in the pitch dark that the room was now enveloped in.

She had fallen from the window onto a lumpy mattress in a basement that was bare except for a cheap writing desk and a chair in a corner that was out of view of the window, if ever anyone looked in from the street. Malark stood a few feet away beside an old woman. The man he'd called Gorstag was settling himself down at the writing desk, fishing through one of the desk's drawers.

Pulling the candle sitting on the desk closer to him, he struck a match and lit it before throwing the matchbox back into the drawer he'd extracted it from.

"So, Malark, care to explain who this is?" the man groused.

And with that, the half-elf was thrust into a world of shadows, dark clothing, and nimble handed trickery.


	2. Entertaining Reality

**Althaea, age sixteen.**

"You've got to be joking." grumbled the man behind the counter.

A slender black eyebrow rose in challenge. "Got a problem old man?"

The jeweler shook his head. "Gorstag sent some little girl to handle his business for him?"

Althaea sneered. "This 'little girl' offered to come. Gorstag's busy. And I am more than capable of handling some scheming human jewelry maker."

The man shook his head, glaring at her, his eyes flicking just to the side of her eyes. She knew he was looking at her ears. She knew he was judging her for that more than he was for her age, and that only made her distain for the man grow. Who was he to judge her? If what someone looked like defined who they were then his pinchy wrinkled face wasn't something that would lend much to his own character. At least she was pretty.

"Do you have them or don't you, then?" the jeweler groused.

Reaching into her little silk purse, Althaea extracted a velvet drawstring bag. It's contents rattled a bit as she sat it down on the counter. When the man reached for it, however, there was suddenly a blade stuck more than an inch deep in the wooden counter just to the left of his hand. Fearful, startled eyes looked up at her. Althaea tutted as though scolding a child, and giving him a falsely indulgent smile.

"Now now, you know the rules here, don't you?" she asked sweetly. "You pay me, then you can have your precious little jewels."

As the man scrambled to recollect himself and get her payment, the half-elf pulled her dagger back out of the counter and stowed it away.

She was quite pleased with herself on how well all her weapons and tools were hidden today. In order to avoid drawing attention to herself while on her little 'outing', she had worn the only dress she owned. It was a pretty green thing, dolled up to look nicer than it was, and not at all out of place in this part of the shops district of the city. She had also put a heavy powder over her skin to hide the bluish tint that it had, just as she did anytime that she was out thieving in daylight. Anyone who didn't know her, and who didn't notice her ears, would easily assume that she was just a merchant's daughter. No one would suspect the various daggers hidden up her sleeves and skirt, or the bottle of acid she had hanging on the chain around her neck, and certainly not the lock picking set that she had stuffed into her brazier.

Even when she wasn't out on 'business' Althaea never went out unarmed. Though usually she had more places to keep her weapons, which was why she disliked this particular set of cloths.

"Here." snapped the old man, dropping a small bag of coins onto the counter and reaching for the velvet bag. Immediately Althaea's hand snatched it back up.

"Ah-ah. Not just yet." Still holding the bag of jewels, she picked up the bag of coins, upending it on the counter. Several gold and silver pieces tumbled out onto the counter, she had to stop one or two from actually rolling off the counter. Silently she counted out the coins before finally looking up and smiling poisonously at the man before her. "And this is exactly why any good entrepreneur makes sure that they have the money in hand before giving away their wares. You, sir, are short ten gold and sixteen silver. Now why would that be?"

The jeweler sneered. "Criminal you mean. Sixty gold coins and thirty silver is swindling me for those little gems!"

In the span of only a few heartbeats, several things happened. Althaea dropped the bag of jewels on the counter, whipped one of her daggers from it's hiding place, and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic, dragging him halfway across the counter.

"Ten flawless rubies? Enchanted with disguising spells?" Althaea purred dangerously, pressing the tip of her knife under the man's chin, just above the jugular. "I think my master's price is awful generous, actually. Personally, I would've charged you a hundred gold."

Shoving him away from her, she sheathed her dagger a second time as the man stumbled and stared fearfully at her. Looking back at him, her blue eyes flashing dangerously, she spoke in a silky tone. "Now, why don't you go and get the rest of Gorstag's money? Then you can have your precious gems, and I'll be out of your hair."

Watching her fearfully, the man slipped into the back room as she swept the money still on the counter back into the pouch they'd been in. Moments later, he returned and silently handed her the missing currency. In return, she handed over the bag of rubies before stowing the money in her little silk purse.

Upon receiving the full payment, Althaea's poisonously pleasant demeanor vanished, and she again slipped into her roll of cheerful merchant's daughter. "Thank you so much, sir. Have a blessed day!"

Ignoring the old man's glare, she exited the shop, with a small bounce in her step.

Stepping back onto the street, Althaea took a deep breath, reveling in the sunlight that fell on her skin. It was a clear warm day, pleasant, and promising a beautiful night. The thought of sleeping on the roof of Gorstag's shop sprang into her mind, and she smiled, thinking off all the nights when she and Malark had stayed up all night watching the stars rather than burglarizing homes. They would make up constellations of their own and wish upon shooting stars. The first time that they'd done it, she'd been about ten, and thought it was foolish beyond words. But now, it was the only time she found herself being able to pretend that she wasn't some lowlife criminal who was ostracized for her parentage. Instead she could, in those moments, almost believe she was a regular girl, with a real older brother.

Turning on her heel, Althaea walked down the street back towards the seedier part of town. As she turned a corner however, she ran directly into someone. It was a pretty human woman, one who looked to be far more wealthy than the lowly thief, probably the wife of a low-ranking nobleman or a wealthy merchant. She wore a lovely blue dress made from satin, and wore several pieces of jewelry. The piece that caught her eye however, was the jade bracelet around her wrist. Taking all this in at first glance was a habit of hers, and one that was quite useful to her when getting in and out of tough spots.

Putting on an apologetic smile that made her eyes crinkle warmly, Althaea reached out and grasped the woman's wrists to steady her.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" she gasped. "Are you alright ma'am?"

Flustered, the woman straightened and took a breath. "I'm fine dear, thank you. And don't worry, the fault was mine."

Shaking her head, Althaea continued her smiling. "Oh no ma'am, I should have been more careful."

"Well, aren't you a sweet girl." said the woman.

"Thank you..." she said demurely, forcing herself into blushing. She released the older female's wrists and then feigned mild panic. "Oh no! I'm going to be late!"

Hurriedly, she sidestepped her mark and took a few steps then again feigned embarrassment. Turning she smiled and curtsied to the woman. "Um, it was nice meeting you, ma'am. Sorry for bumping into you though."

With that, she turned again and hurried off down the street until she reached the next side road and turning onto that. Once out of the woman's sightline, Althaea lifted her hand, twirling the jade bracelet around one finger and grinning widely. When the woman had been distracted, she had unclasped the piece of jewelry and slipped it into her sleeve.

Malark liked to joke that she was blessed by the trickster god, as these sorts off occurrences were more than simply frequent, and yet never had the city guards come calling. This thought brought her back to her previous musings and chuckling, she shook her head. "Who needs make-believe when reality is so much more fun?"


End file.
